


Just a Bloody Rib

by Angelikah



Category: The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Modern Assassins, Smut, Sparring, Sweaty Workout Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11929551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelikah/pseuds/Angelikah
Summary: When one goes to a school for thieves, assassins and spies, your thesis isn't exactly traditional. The only thing Caroline has standing between her and her diploma is the ability to be a mature adult and cooperate professionally with her ex-boyfriend so that they can get away with murder. Sounds easy, right?





	Just a Bloody Rib

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klarolinedrabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klarolinedrabbles/gifts).



> Steph, you are a blessing to this fandom and the general population of the world. Thank you for being patient with my five thousand asks and me not-so-sneakily making sure my mobile app didn't screw up horribly. I'm sorry that this is so short, but I hope you enjoy it!  
> Thank you to Kelly, Laura, Melissa, Colleen, Ravyn, Hillary, Cristy, and Dani for listening to me endlessly whine and freak out. You guys are the best.

Whitmore seemed pretty normal at first glance. Students walked to their classes in tight clusters, went out to the small town nearby on the weekends to drink and let loose. There were loud complaints about professors and difficult classes and debates about whether you could murder your RA and get away with it. 

Then again, at Whitmore getting away with murder was basically the entire point. 

Below the surface of the school’s charming southern exterior something far more sinister lingered. When students weren’t focused on homework and who was eating their yogurt from the communal fridge, they were practicing weapon skills and subterfuge. Crime. Murder. Espionage. Etcetera.

Caroline fidgeted with her class ring as she stared at the plaster wall in front of her, the lump under the fabric of the chair back pressing uncomfortably against her spine. The receptionist was shuffling papers at her desk, the sound oddly harsh in the otherwise silent air. Caroline was understandably on edge; the possibilities for her final project had been weighing on her mind all summer. Every part of her was humming with energy, though she wasn’t sure whether it was out of anticipation, terror, or excitement.

She tried not to show it, though she’d always been terrible at keeping her face blank. She’d learned that she was much better at completing the practice missions when she embraced her inability to inhibit her facial expressions rather than trying to fight them off. 

Her first step on campus felt like home. She’d always known what her father did for a living, their father-daughter bonding sessions mostly involving practicing observational skills and occasionally weapons training once she was old enough. She originally hadn’t wanted to go, thinking that it would be nice to have a normal life with a liberal arts degree and boring, non-violent afternoons, but her father had asked her to go to his alma mater when he was on his deathbed, and she hadn’t had the heart to say no. 

Now, after four years of hard work, she was ready to take her diploma and the dangerous, adrenaline-spiking missions that came with it. The only problem was her final project.

The goal always seemed simple at first look - they were paired with another student with complementary skills and given a target or task. Though they could ask their class advisor for help or recommendations, the majority of the mission was supposed to be planned by them, from constructing the plan to getting away with the crime. Whitmore did not allow hand-holding. Caroline was pretty sure she knew who her partner would be. She excelled at subterfuge and luring her targets into a false sense of security before striking, her ability to plan the perfect heist one of her best assets. Enzo, her best friend, wasn’t great with preparations but was brilliant at thinking on his feet, his instincts superb. There had been rumours of one pairing being tasked to steal a painting from the Louvre, and she was  _ so  _ up for it.

There was only one person in the whole class who she absolutely did not want to be paired with. So when Sheila stuck her head out of the office to beckon her in and she saw who was sitting at the desk, her heart dropped to her stomach, her insides twisting. 

Klaus Mikaelson was reckless and dangerous, known for his charming dimples and lack of empathy, and she knew from personal experience that he was the actual  _ worst _ .

Just by looking at the way his nails were tapping on the desk, the other hand absently spinning a short, sharp knife between his fingers, she knew that her assignment wouldn’t have anything to do with high-stakes thievery. They were  _ clearly _ going to be working together to murder someone. She wasn’t surprised that he was tasked with it, since heartlessly hurting people with no regrets seemed to be what he was good at, but she had no idea why she would ever be paired with him.

“Hello, love,” he said, his eyes slowly dragging up and down her body in a way she knew was meant to bait her, head cocked to the side. “So pleased to see you again.”

She was tempted to let out a string of expletives and unflattering names, but she settled for a saccharine smile and a venomous, “ _ Wish I could say the same _ ,” before sitting down, crossing her legs at the ankle. She felt nerves build in her stomach when she saw him shoot her a searching look out of the corner of her eye, but she viciously pushed them away. Klaus had ruined enough for her, and she wouldn’t let him do it again.

The first time she’d stepped on campus it felt like home. Her parents had just been buried and her life changed, and it was the only connection to her family legacy she had left. She held on to Bonnie, her best friend and the only other person she’d grown up with who knew what Whitmore really was, like a lifeline. Still, her long-held insecurities popped up unwelcome, and the first few days had been hard. 

Then she’d met him. He’d looked at her like she was  _ enough  _ for the first time in so long. He’d given her genuine-looking smiles and spent a good month popping up everywhere she went, charming her with his willingness to banter and tease, his accent and heated gaze. She was almost as ashamed that she’d fallen for him as mad that he’d fooled her. He’d lured her into his trap, enticed her with pretty words and looks, and despite the warnings from everyone around her that he was manipulative and skeezy and terrible, she’d fallen into his bed willingly.

Now though, she would show no weakness. If anyone was going to back down, it would be him.

“Is this pairing going to be an issue?” Sheila asked lightly.

After lying to their advisor’s face that they were both going to be grown mature adults when dealing with each other, Sheila explained their assignment. Caroline felt excitement buzz through her as her confusion was wiped away. Sure, murdering people was wrong, but Stefan and Damon Salvatore were basically walking examples of people who theoretically deserved to die. If she squinted hard at her damaged moral compass and tried to ignore the voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her mom telling her to  _ maybe not kill people,  _ she would probably be okay with pulling the plug herself. 

When Bonnie’s mother died, she’d spent weeks watching dumb movies and holding Bonnie while she cried. She’d planned Abby’s funeral so that Bonnie and Sheila wouldn’t have to think about it, had been the only one Bonnie knew who  _ understood _ . 

No one could prove it, but everyone knew who had been the one to kill Abby, and Caroline knew that Sheila had probably been itching to take revenge for the murder of her daughter ever since. Since Bonnie didn’t enter combat (she didn’t like blood and was much happier hacking her way into what were supposedly the best security systems in the world), it made sense that she’d assign the Salvatores to the two other students who would be the most likely to make revenge long and painful. 

Caroline because Bonnie was her best friend, and Klaus because he was a sadistic monster.

“You’re two of the best we have, and I know you’ll follow through,” Sheila said, her voice businesslike, the only hint of the pain she still held present in her stiff posture and the hitch in her voice.

“Yes ma’am,” Caroline said, looking her straight in the eye, and Sheila gave her a small smile.

“Do you have any recommendations?” Klaus asked quietly, and Caroline raised an eyebrow.

From what she remembered, he wasn’t usually one to ask for others opinions, preferring to make the plan by himself and trusting no one else to have anything meaningful to contribute. She doubted that he was emotionally attuned enough to realize that Sheila’s personal preferences might matter to her, and Caroline thought it most likely that he wanted to get back to what he considered the subject at hand rather than the pesky feelings of decent human beings.

Sheila seemed to consider the question for a few moments, looking between them before speaking slowly. “They know you two, so luring them into a false sense of security will be difficult. I recommend that you utilize your respective specialties into organizing an ambush.”

“But luring them into a false sense of security is all I know how to do,” Caroline pointed out, frowning. “Subterfuge is like, my  _ thing _ . I don’t do missions that involve straight-up ‘hi, nice to see you again, here’s my gun’ murder.”

“But Klaus does,” Sheila said. “And you’re an excellent planner, Caroline. You know how to predict your targets’ next moves and have excellent observational skills. I do recommend that you brush up on your hand-to-hand combat, but Klaus can easily help you. I put you together because I believe that you complement each other. Don’t make me regret my choices.” 

There was a threat present in the words that sent a shiver down Caroline’s spine. Sheila might look like a harmless grandmother, but Caroline knew quite well how ruthless she could be. 

“I’d be happy to help you practice, love,” Klaus cut in with a smug smirk, and she gritted her teeth.

“No pet names,” she bit out, tempted to tell him that she didn’t need his help but knowing that Sheila would take that badly.

Maybe she’d get to punch him in the face. That would be  _ immensely  _ satisfying.

“I suggest you begin with creating a timeline for your project, and meet three times a week to refresh Caroline’s combat training. I’ll obviously be here to help should you have any questions, but you’re both immensely capable,” she said before giving each of them a stern look. “This wasn’t an uninformed choice. I know that you have a history. However, I think that if you can act like the mature adults that I know you’re capable of being, this mission will go more smoothly than those assigned to the majority of your classmates. Are we clear?”

“Yep!” Caroline said, wanting to get out of the office as soon as possible.

Klaus nodded as well and followed her out, and Caroline rounded on him as soon as the office door closed behind him. “I hate you and you’re a sadistic, heartless bastard,” she said bluntly. “You’re a disgusting sleaze and I hope you burn in hell. That said, I’m willing to put aside what a terrible person you are to guarantee that Stefan and Damon are given a slow and painful death.”

“That’s rather harsh for someone who never let me explain what actually occurred,” he said, his voice mild, though she could see the genuine irritation in his eyes.

“I know what I heard, Klaus,” she said, the memory still painful despite how long it had been since it happened.

She had been on her way to his dorm to meet him to finalize their plans for the summer. She’d just entered his building when she overheard him and Tyler ‘Douchebag’ Lockwood talking in the hallway. The words were still burned into her memory, stubbornly sticking, validating all of her insecurities that she’d never quite been able to shed.

_ “--going to let her go yet, not until I get what I want. The chase is too much fun, and I want to see the light fade in her eyes when she figures it out.” _

All the breath had left her lungs, her eyes burning with tears, and she’d wanted to march in, wanted to punch him in his stupid smug smirky face, but she didn’t want him to see her hurt the way he  _ clearly _ wanted. She swore she’d never let him or anyone else make her feel that way again. 

She’d waited until the next time they saw each other, told him curtly that she’d overheard his conversation with Tyler and if he was just taking advantage of her she’d decided that this just wasn’t going to work out. He’d asked her to let him explain, but she’d ignored him, walking away with a sinking heart, tears in her eyes, and the determination to never talk to him, look at him, or acknowledge his existence ever again. 

“I judge harshly and don’t like bullshit excuses,” she said with a shrug. “Are you free Tuesday night?”

“I can make time,” he said dryly.

“Good. I’ll brainstorm a few ideas and meet you in the study in my dorm suite at eight. We can talk about how you want to do this.”

“It’s a date,” he said with a mocking smile, and she resisted the urge to drive her heel into his foot.

“Can’t wait,” she muttered, and he tilted his head to the side, eyeing her with an intensity that she wasn’t used to. She suddenly felt almost unbearably uncomfortable and transparent, like he could see the inner workings of her mind, the vulnerability and hurt she still held despite her best attempts to fight it off. Even after he’d given up on reeling her back in and eventually retreated back to his mask of cold indifference that he aimed at everyone else, she occasionally thought she saw hurt in his eyes, defensiveness in his posture, but she knew she must be imagining things. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said, and she was upset to find that it sounded completely genuine. She knew it wasn’t, though. Sure, he could be charming when he wanted to be, but he was a manipulative ruthless asshole, and that would never change. Now that she was forced to be near .him, she had to keep up her guard. He’d wasted almost an entire year of her life, and she couldn’t let him near her heart again. Their relationship would be strictly professional, and that was that.

* * *

 

Of fucking  _ course  _ he’d get paired with Caroline Forbes. 

Caroline Forbes, the only person he’d ever felt a single flicker of affection for in his four years at Whitmore. The only woman who had been able to make a genuine smile bloom on his face, had made warmth melt at the walls of his heart. Had made him  _ weak _ .

He tried not to stare as she bent over the paper in the common room of her dorm suite, her lips moving as she talked about some sort of security system nullification program, and she glanced at him mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing. “What did I just say?”

He had no idea, and his silence seemed to show that because she huffed, curling a piece of hair behind her ear. “If this is going to work you need to actually listen. I doubt you’ve ever cooperated in your life, but can you please stop staring at me and do your work?”

“My job is to follow your directions and murder the evil-doers.”

“Well, follow my directions now and pay attention, okay?”

“Happy to follow your directions any time, love.”

She shot him a look so filthy that he almost felt proud, and she sat up a bit, poking him in the chest with a pencil. “New rule: no flirting.”

“Who said I was?”

She didn’t seem to have an answer to that, just rolling her eyes and turning back to the paper. “Ready to pay attention or do you need another minute to prepare your goldfish-level attention span?”

“Ready, love.”

She started talking again and he hung on every word, noticing the slight tilt to her body as she relaxed, her words speeding up excitedly as she talked through a strategy she’d clearly been having trouble with, and he felt an unwanted warmth bloom in his chest.

He’d been taken with her since the first time they met. Her hands had shaken nervously the first class, her tongue darting across her bottom lip as she dutifully took notes until they had broken off for small group discussions about the pros and cons of untraceable poisons. He’d said something she disagreed with and she pointed out calmly that he was wrong and  _ hadn’t he done the reading _ , earning a rare smile from Professor Shane, who had been walking around asking prompting questions. 

Over the next week he’d had fallen hard for her well-thought out answers, quick wit, and clear relish in ‘I-told-you-so’s’. She was beautiful and fiery and self-righteous and  _ loyal _ , had a clever barb for every doubt thrown at her, and he’d wanted to memorize and hold every piece of her. He’d finally won her over after a month of his best efforts, and once she was his he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so whole. It was new and exhilarating and he’d hated how weak she made him, how  _ vulnerable _ , but every moment of that year with her had been worth it. 

She’d never given him a chance to explain what she’d overheard. Seeing Katherine Pierce squirm as she awaited the execution she knew was coming had been deliciously satisfying, but if he’d known that his conversation about it with Lockwood would lose him Caroline he would have tracked her down and slit her throat.

Caroline had captured his heart and then mercilessly crushed it with a cold smile that didn’t conceal the betrayal in her eyes. Her walls had unexpectedly slammed up in front of him. He’d known that she was as stubborn and vicious as she was bright and tempting, but her abrupt cold shoulder was nonetheless a kick to his gut, a prick to his admittedly over-inflated ego. Since she’d let him go without so much as a moment to listen to him, he’d developed a resentful dislike for her, had tried to push away how fascinating he found her. 

It hadn’t quite worked. 

His interactions with her were now reduced to casual observation and second-hand accounts of her behavior, facts he absorbed with a blank face and eager ears. He was careful to stay subtle, to not show too much interest. He remained cold and distant, too uncomfortable with the knowledge that he genuinely felt something for her after all this time, that he still wanted her so much after she’d left. 

“So, I think we should exit through entrance B then,” she finished, circling a marker on the map she’d constructed. “Does that make sense?”

“I still think exiting through the roof would be better.”

“I know,” she said with the air of someone who was desperately trying to be patient as they explained to a toddler that they weren’t allowed to have another piece of cake. “But I think it would be best to use entrance B.”

He knew how to pick his battles. 

“All right.”

“Wait, really?” she asked, her eyebrows raising. “You’re okay with that?”

“I trust your instincts, love,” he said, his voice unintentionally serious, and he was faintly surprised as a light pink flush creeped up her neck. She hurriedly cleared her throat, bending back down over the paper, and though he was tempted to comment he decided to stay quiet, knowing that teasing her would most likely scare her off even more.

He’d always been good at reading people. It was part of what made him so good at what he did. He knew how to cajole the most stubborn people into his clutches, to manipulate and take advantage and then finally pounce. The chase was satisfying, seeing the realization in the eyes of his victims just before he slit their throats. It was a rush that he didn’t try to fight down.

Caroline was different. She’d somehow pushed him off-kilter, had realigned the axis on which his world rested. It was infuriating and humiliating, the way her wide eyes and bright smile had punctured between his ribs to his racing heart. The way she’d looked at him when their hands brushed, the way she subtly inhaled his scent and had a forced bite to her tone, told him that she might not be as hostile as she pretended to be. There was a small, petty part of him that didn’t want to make amends out of spite, but he knew that if he let her go he’d never forgive himself, and he hated himself for it, hated her for making him feel like this. Her abrupt dismissal of him from her life had made him bitter for the entirety of the years they spent apart, angry at himself for being unable to fight down the pain whenever he saw her face. 

Still, he tried to pay attention as much as possible, giving his genuine opinion whenever she asked (and sometimes when she didn’t), and she seemed to respect his willingness to contribute, giving him a small smile that he suspected wasn’t intentional as she packed up her things a few hours later. “That was really productive.”

“It was,” he agreed, standing up as well. “First sparring session tomorrow?”

She wrinkled her nose but nodded. “Gym at eight, maybe? At night, I mean.”

“See you then, sweetheart.”

She didn’t seem to notice the endearment he’d always reserved exclusively for her, or if she did she didn’t comment, just nodding and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Let me walk you out.”

He followed her to the door, running through all of his possible next moves.

He was opportunistic by nature, wasn’t one to throw away an opening when someone had so kindly provided it, and this mission was definitely an opportunity to win Caroline over. 

The question was how.

* * *

 

“Let’s take a break, sweetheart.”

Caroline nodded, rolling her shoulders before reaching up to tug the elastic out of her hair and re-doing her ponytail. She tried to be subtle as she admired Klaus’s shirtless back when he walked to the minifridge they kept by the stereo equipment, bending to get out two water bottles and closing the door with his foot. He tossed one to her and she caught it, sinking down on the mats cross legged and eagerly taking a few gulps. 

They’d been sparring three times a week for the past month, and though she’d taken all of her hand-to-hand combat classes in her first two years to get them out of the way, she was starting to get back to the level she was at when she finished them. Klaus was an annoyingly competent teacher, and she hoped that he’d deem her good enough for them to stop soon. 

He was so gentle when he touched her, his palms hot on her hips or waist when he corrected her posture, and she’d begun to wear a tank top over her sports bra to fend off the electric brush of his skin on hers. She hated how much she loved the way he pressed his front against her back when he guided her through different kinds of strikes, his breath hot on her neck as he explained every detail. She knew that the touch was completely unnecessary, but for some reason she hesitated to fend him off, found herself craving the scent of him cloaking her, the feel of him against her. It was nice to have a justification, to allow herself the freedom of giving in. She soon found herself questioning why she’d never let him explain himself, wondering whether she could have been wrong.

She knew it must be his goal, to slowly pique her curiosity until she asked for the explanation. He’d had two years to come up with an adequate one, and she had no doubt that whatever it was, it would be completely believable. It was dangerous to start down that path, but as they spent more time together it became more and more tempting. She’d never quite forgotten how fun it was to banter with him or the way he made her feel when he looked at her, but she had been hoping to get through the project without being reminded.

She snuck a glance up at him and found him watching her with heat in his eyes, and she flushed and stared determinedly at the cap of her water bottle beside her on the mat. She hated how he could make her feel sexy when she was in tight sweaty lycra and flushed with exertion, but when they’d been together he’d never failed to make her feel special and wanted when she doubted herself the most. 

She could still feel his eyes on her and she cleared her throat, looking up. “Ready?”

“Of course, love.”

The way the endearment fell off his tongue made her skin pebble, her nipples tightening, and she was thankful that the thick fabric of her sports bra was obscuring her reaction. He stretched, the muscles of his abdomen tensing, and she couldn’t resist licking her lips as she watched, the urge to refamiliarize herself with his taste a siren call that was difficult to resist. She realized that he was watching her with an amused smile, though he didn’t comment on how she’d drank him in, instead setting down his water and walking towards her, assuming a sparring position. 

She matched him, bouncing on the balls of her feet, trying to judge his first move. He didn’t have tells, never gave a single hint as to what he was going to do, and it meant that she had to be aware every single second. His fist shot out suddenly and she easily ducked it, narrowly avoiding the hit to her shoulder and shifting to hook her foot around the back of his ankle. She knew he wouldn’t fall, his balance was too good, but he did stumble. She used his new position to punch his shoulder, hoping to knock him down. He dodged, rolling easily to end up behind her, and before she could turn to face him he’d grabbed her around the waist, pinning her arms to the side.

She could feel his hot breath on her neck, and she knew that the position wasn’t supposed to be comfortable, the scent of him not supposed to send heat underneath her skin, but she somehow couldn’t resist leaning into him.

He seemed to stiffen for a moment as though he wasn’t quite sure how to respond, but before he could she’d lifted her legs off the ground to try to wrap them around his legs, the sudden change in the weight he was supporting making him stumble.

She didn’t want to hurt him, so she rolled off as soon as they fell to the ground, his body cushioning their fall, and turned to pin him when she realized that he was on his feet again. It happened in an instant, one moment she was sitting on her knees and the next she was flat on her back, their noses barely an inch apart.

She hadn’t realized how hard she was breathing, her eyes widening as he pinned her wrists to the mat on either side of her head, his breath hot on her lips. His body fit on top of hers perfectly, the hard angles of his body pressing deliciously against her curves. In a normal fight she wouldn’t be tempted to wrap her legs around the waist of her opponent and pull him down by the hair to taste him, but she and Klaus had never been normal, their respective quirks and hangups a perfect clash, and she knew in her heart of hearts that Sheila had known quite well what she was doing.

She wanted him so much, had never stopped wanting him, and...

“I was scared,” she blurted impulsively.

“Beg pardon?” he asked, though he was alert, and she could tell that he knew what she was talking about, that he was hanging on every word, desperate for the truth.

She took a deep breath. “I...Everyone kept telling me that you were terrible and that I should stay away, and I knew that you weren’t exactly the most morally upstanding person in the world. It scared me that I liked you anyway, that I wanted you. And it scared me that you wanted  _ me. _ ”

“Caroline--”

She shook her head, cutting him off with a huff. “No, like...I’ve never been someone’s first choice. Even when I was in high school and had boyfriends they never  _ really  _ wanted me. I was worried that I’d just jumped on the first person to look my way and that you actually wanting me was giving me rose-colored glasses. I was scared that you were manipulating me and I’d fall in love with you and you’d just ditch me.”

“I would never,” he whispered, letting go of one of her wrists to cup her cheek, the tip of his thumb stroking her cheekbone, and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes.

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“You can’t know for sure, I suppose. I understand why I’d be a difficult man to trust,” he said, still stroking her face. He rubbed the thumb of his other hand against her pulse, the motion against the sensitive skin making her shiver, and she opened her eyes slowly to meet his. “But Caroline...I had no intention of letting you go.”

“What happened?” she asked softly, wanting to believe that he was telling the truth  _ so badly _ , needing to hear it.

He shifted on top of her as he seemed to choose his words before he spoke. “I had been chasing Katherine Pierce for two years. I always let her escape by the skin of her teeth, and she was always ready to flee at a moment’s notice. It made me feel powerful, to hold her life in my hands, to know that I could take it at any moment. I liked making her live in fear. What you heard was me telling Tyler that I wasn't ready to give up that rush just yet.”

It took Caroline a few seconds to process his statement. “Wow,” she drew out slowly. “Seriously?”

His lips twitched. “Seriously.”

“God, you’re a terrible person,” she huffed, letting the back of her head fall against the mat. “How do you live with yourself?”

“Like everyone else does, I suppose,” he said, and she could hear the amusement in his voice.

“How did I ever fall in love with you?” she grumbled, and she felt Klaus freeze on top of her. She looked up to meet his eyes, realized what she’d said, and felt her heart drop. “I mean, back then, obviously. I don’t mean, I’m not saying... Stop looking at me like that!”

He flashed her an unashamedly smug dimpled grin, bending to brush his nose against hers. “So, you love me, then? Still?”

She huffed, glaring in the general direction of the wall. “No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yep.”

“Now, it’s not nice to lie, sweetheart.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster, turning to look at him and a bit shaken by the openly affectionate expression on his face, trying not to lean into his touch when he tucked a curl behind her ear.

“I think you do,” he said, and he was  _ way  _ too pleased with himself. “I think that you’ve been knowingly lying to yourself about why you left. Perhaps you were terrified that what you overheard applied to you, but you never asked. But tell me, sweetheart, was it because you were afraid it did, or that you were afraid it didn’t?”

Her breath caught, her heart pounding, and her teeth sunk into her lower lip. She knew that her hesitant silence was enough of an answer for him, but she took a shaky breath to answer anyway. “Both.”

“And are you still afraid?” he asked, his tone changing from infuriatingly smug to a tenderness that she knew no one else would ever associate with him, that he saved only for her.

“Yes,” she breathed. “But...”

“But?” he prodded once she trailed off, looking at her with badly concealed apprehension.

“But I think...I think we’re worth it.”

She’d never seen him smile so brightly, her body shaking with anticipation as he drank her in before bending to press their foreheads together. Their breathing mingled for a moment as they stayed that way, savoring the closeness, and she took a shaky breath before she spoke again, her lips barely touching his when she formed the words.

“Don’t make me regret falling in love with you.”

“I don’t intend to,” he said quietly, pulling back to search her face for just a moment, and then his lips were on hers.

It was slow at first, their lips meeting in lazy, drugging strokes. She closed her eyes as he gently tugged the elastic out of her hair to bury one of his hands in her curls, cupping her head as he sucked her bottom lip, nipping it before soothing the sting with his tongue. She felt her nipples tighten, an ache beginning to stir at the apex of her thighs, and she couldn’t help but arch her back to rub against him, her need for friction building with every second. He pulled back to look at her through heavy-lidded eyes, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he said softly, his forehead dropping against hers.

“I missed you too.”

The moment was almost too much, blood rushing in her ears, her heart pounding so harshly against her chest that she felt like it should be loud enough to hear. She reached up with the hand he wasn’t holding to the mat to run a finger down his jaw before freezing at his chin, lingering at the scratch of stubble before tracing his lips with her fingertip. He let her, his body tense, eyes closing, and she felt his cock twitch against her thigh. She smiled at him, lifting her hips just slightly to tell him that she’d noticed, and his dimples flashed before he took her finger between his lips, sucking it into his mouth. His tongue lightly flicked against the pad of her fingertip and she shivered, her breath catching at the nip of teeth. He fiddled with the strands of her hair he held to untangle them from his hand before grabbing her wrist, holding eye contact with her as he gently tugged her finger out of his mouth and kissed her palm. She moaned softly when he flicked his tongue against the creases where her fingers met her palm before dragging it along her lifeline, and he grinned, pressing a final soft kiss to her skin and pressing it down against the mat beside her head, both wrists pinned down.

The connection between them crackled as he held her gaze, and she always felt like he could interpret the inner workings of her mind, like he  _ got  _ her the way that no one else seemed to, always knew what she needed even if he wasn’t quite sure how to give it.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, the phrase cutting through the charged silence.

“I mean, it was a misunderstanding. If it was anyone’s fault it was--”

“I should have been clearer back then,” he interrupted, and it was a rare moment of nervousness, the apprehension he clearly had over what he was about to say telling her that he was about to give her a rare moment where he purposefully let down his guard for her, where she didn’t have to fight to break through the facade of a heartless monster they both know she could see right through to find the (honestly still pretty terrible) man beneath. 

“What do you mean?”

“I love you, Caroline,” he said, the words so soft that she barely heard. “I would never knowingly do anything to cause you pain.” 

It was nice to hear, but she’d known that deep down. Through every fear and insecurity, every logical thought that he was dangerous and the reality of what she’d overheard and the insistence of everyone else that he was a mistake, that  _ they  _ were a mistake, she’d always known that he was in it for the long haul. It had been a scary conclusion to come to, and she’d done her best to lock away that instinct once she’d overheard him, needing to justify walking away, but she knew that she was just as deeply connected to him as he was to her.

It had been a heady dose of power that she knew she shouldn’t focus on, knowing that one of the most dangerous men she’d ever meet had a soft spot for her,  _ only  _ her. She liked that power, but more than that she liked him. She liked knowing there was someone who got her, who  _ wanted  _ her, that she was his first choice. Self-sabotaging because of a misunderstanding had been the only way she knew to try to forget what the cost was to be that first choice.

Now, though...Now that she’d lived without him and been bitter about every second of it, she was willing to pay it.

He had been watching her process what he’d said and seemed to be growing more nervous by the second, and she abruptly realized that she’d never answered. “I know you wouldn’t,” she said. “And for the record, I would never want to hurt you either.”

He smiled again before bending down to take her lips, this time with a clash of teeth and tongue, the urgency filling her with a heat that made her pulse rush, the ache between her thighs growing stronger. She tried to tug her wrists away from his hands to rake her nails through his hair, to fist his shirt, but he pulled back with a smirk, his forehead pressed against hers. “I quite like your wrists where they are,” he said with a wicked grin, stealing another kiss before she could reply before dragging his lips along her jaw.

“Yeah?” she asked breathlessly, her hips rolling naturally when he pressed his thigh between them.

He hummed, bending to nose her jaw before dragging his tongue along the hollow of her throat. “If I do recall correctly you didn’t used to mind.”

She flushed, memories of his cock filling her as he pinned her wrists down, her legs in the air as she moaned and writhed beneath him, his low voice murmuring in her ear about how good she felt and how he loved the way she said his name, how he could listen to her moan for him all night, liked the reminder that she was his. His movements were always deliciously rough as soon as he’d figured out she liked it, his nails biting into her skin like a brand, and she had responded in kind when his hands were occupied on other parts of her, drawing nonsense patterns on her lower back or dipping into her back entrance just enough to make her shake beneath him.

Just him bringing up those memories made her wetter, the reminder of how she used to demand that he go harder or faster, how her demands turned to begging if he felt like being mean and she felt like indulging him, and her pussy throbbed as she realized how unbearably empty she felt. 

His lips curled in a smile against her skin as she moaned, his teeth dragging along her jaw before he nipped her ear, and she hooked her legs around him, grinding her hips against the bulge behind the thin barriers of cloth separating them.

“Keep them there for now, love,” he murmured before running the tip of his tongue along the shell of her ear, and she shivered. She was vaguely tempted to ask what he would do about it if she didn’t, but when he pulled back she felt like her breath had been stolen from her lungs.

His eyes were dark and greedy as they drank in her form, and she squirmed underneath him as he rubbed the hem of her tank top between his fingers before moving down to press kisses up her abdomen as he inched the cloth up her body, dragging his teeth along her clavicle after he tugged it over her head before popping open the front clasp of her bra, bending to take a nipple in his mouth. She swore, trying to keep her hands where they were, longing to run her fingers through his hair and tug at his curls.

His touches were frustratingly light as his palms skimmed her hips through her yoga pants, the scrape of his teeth infuriatingly gentle. She doubted that he wasn’t completely aware that the touches weren’t quite enough, and she squirmed underneath him, trying to find friction.

“Klaus...”

“Yes sweetheart?” he mumbled, dragging his tongue along the underside of her breast. 

“I need you,” she said, her voice shaking, and he chuckled, not responding, though she felt the tip of his finger edge under the waistband of her yoga pants, stroking her hipbone. She lifted her hips, trying to encourage him, but he didn’t pull them, simply scraping her skin with his fingernail. “Klaus...”

“I want to take my time.”

“You can take your time later.”

“I have been fantasizing about this for years, Caroline. I came on my palm to the vision of you like this, flushed and desperate for me as I teased you until you were on the brink. You’ve made me wait so long and though I have no intention of holding out, I admit it will give me an immense amount of satisfaction to watch you beg for it.”

Of fucking  _ course _ . “I’ve been waiting too, and I don’t think your ego needs stroking considering that I’m flat on my back letting you fuck me in the middle of a public gym. In case you haven’t noticed, I want you.”

“I know,” he murmured, laying wet, open-mouthed kisses to her abdomen above the waistband of her yoga pants. “Good things come to those with patience, sweetheart.”

“Unless those ‘good things’ are either your tongue or your cock between my legs in the next thirty seconds I don’t really have any incentive to be patient.”

He laughed quietly, beginning to peel the tight cloth down her lips little by little. “I do enjoy it when you tell me what you want, love.”

She was about to respond when the breath left her lungs, shivering as he made eye contact with her when he dragged his tongue along her hipbone. She moaned his name softly as he pressed kisses to the skin just above the waistband before he edged the fabric down her thighs. She nearly laughed at his low groan when he saw that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath, his forehead falling against her thigh, breath hot against her skin. “Fuck, Caroline...”

“You get lines when you wear them under tight pants,” she said defensively, fighting down a smile.

“Worried that I’d stare at your pretty arse, sweetheart?”

“Knew you would.”

He grinned, pressing her palms to her inner thighs to nudge her legs apart and bending to press soft kisses to her sensitive skin just a few centimeters away from where she desperately wanted his touch. “I’m going to taste you, make you squirm,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking up to watch her face as he spoke. “I’ve missed it immensely, sweetheart. I’ve stroked my cock so many times desperately trying to remember how your pussy tasted against my tongue, the way you used to moan for me. I want to hear it again, to rememorize it. It’s haunted my dreams for too long.”

“Dream about me a lot, then?” she teased, but the look he gave her was serious in a way that made her breath catch.

“Yes. I have so many things I wanted to do to you, Caroline. So many things I wanted to give you, but never got the chance.”

She wanted to ask, wanted to know the no-doubt filthy scenarios that he’d come up with while they were apart, but she cut herself off with a moan at the first touch of his tongue to her clit, the flick making her entire body quiver. It wasn’t a hard decision when the fantasies were at odds with coming on his tongue, but she fully intended on interrogating him later. 

Her hips jerked when he swirled his tongue around her entrance before slipping a finger inside, and her mind went blank after that, too occupied by how much she’d missed this, missed him. No one but him had ever been able to make her feel like this since she’d left him behind. He knew exactly how to touch her to make her shake, had memorized her tells so completely that he’d gotten her off in the computer lab in the fifteen minutes before the next class came in more than once. and she moaned his name as she rolled her hips against his face. Every touch of his tongue and curl of his fingers was a reminder of how he used to make her a desperate mess beneath him, and it wasn’t long until she tipped over the edge.

She watched with hazy eyes and ragged breaths as he sat up, licking his lips before bending down so that she could taste herself, his tongue stroking the roof of her mouth. She moved her hands between them to tug at the drawstrings of his sweatpants, gasping when he grabbed her wrists and set them back by her head, his eyes flashing. “I told you to keep them there,” he said, pressing another soft kiss to her lips, the tenderness a direct contrast to the way he was pinning her down. “I told you, sweetheart, I remember all those times you let me tie you to the headboard of my bed and spread your legs for me, the way you  _ begged  _ for it. You want my cock to fill you hard and fast, for me to groan your name as I feel you clench around me. When I stroked my cock thinking of you it was a frequent staple in the memories of you I conjured up.”

She gasped as he ground the bulge of his hard cock against her soaking core, her eyes rolling back in her head. “Klaus...”

“Caroline.”

“Please,” she whispered, lifting her hips, her oversensitive skin still throbbing. It had been so long since anyone had touched her like this, her short flings and one night stands not even close to comparing to how good he felt, and he grinned.

“Please what?”

She’d never felt comfortable being vocal with anyone but Klaus, but the way his eyes darkened with lust when she confessed what she wanted, how much he paid attention, hung on her every word, had always made her more willing to. “I need you to talk to me,” she said quietly, swallowing when he smirked. “And I want your cock inside me.”

“I know,” he said quietly, and she felt his hand brush against her pussy as he pulled his sweatpants off, giving her a warning look when her hands twitched as she fought the urge to reach to help, needing his skin on hers as soon as possible. She felt the head of his cock against her entrance and whined out his name to encourage him as he pressed inside.

The first thrust of his hips was heaven, the second even better. He dug his fingernails into her hips to pull her against him again and again, taking her rough and fast, exactly how she liked it. “Tell me the things you wanted to do to me,” she breathed, her voice shaking as she looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes, and he gave her a wicked grin.

“I want to take you from behind in front of a mirror,” he began without any introduction, his hands sliding under her ass to change the angle, her head tipping back as he fucked her harder. “I want you to see your face when you come, the way your lips form my name. I want you to watch yourself as you fall apart around my cock. Would you like that?”

She swallowed, nodding, and he bent to bite her lip hard, making her moan. “Would you like that?” he repeated, his voice sharp and demanding, and she breathed out a faint ‘yes’.

“I want to bend you over my bed, to tie you up just the way you like and fuck your pretty arse. I do love the way it looks framing my cock, how you squirm and moan for me as I take you in the most primal and filthy of ways. Perhaps I’ll put a toy in your pussy as well, fill you completely while you writhe beneath me. Would you suck it clean after you come around the toy, Caroline? Would you let me use it to muffle your moans as you taste yourself? Desperately wanting to rub your clit for some friction but unable to give yourself relief? Your hair looks so lovely wound between my fingers, you know, and I recall that you love it when I tug it just the right way. You’d make such a pretty picture with my hand in your hair and your wrists bound, taking my cock as you moan around a toy that’s covered with your own arousal...”

She nodded frantically, meeting every thrust of his hips with her own, her breathing growing more ragged. They’d never quite gone that far kink-wise, but she couldn’t help but be excited by the idea, her mind racing to all of the possibilities it opened up. She wondered how much his fantasies had wandered from things they’d already done, the things he desperately wanted that he’d never had enough time to confess.

It was so difficult not to claw at his back, not to touch him, but she knew that choosing to give herself to him, to let him have this control, was what he wanted, what he  _ needed _ . He needed to know that she was serious, that she was willing to trust him, and she needed to know that she could. His cock filled her so perfectly, his low groans making her clench around him as he managed to change the angle, hitting her perfectly with every thrust, and she was so close to the edge, just on the precipice of tipping over...

“Tell me again.”

She knew what he meant and she gave it with no hesitation. “I love you, Klaus.”

“Yes. You love  _ me _ . You’re mine, sweetheart. Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she hissed, nodding, completely lost in the way he was touching her, how close she was, how much she  _ needed  _ him. 

“Mine,” he repeated, bending to kiss her roughly as his thrusts sped up. “I’m never going to let you go again, Caroline. You’re a weakness I’ll never be able to shed.”

“You’re mine too,” she breathed, and she saw him smile through heavy-lidded eyes, his satisfaction from her simple statement bleeding so clearly from the smirk he wore.

“That’s right, love,” he murmured, kissing her surprisingly gently despite his rough thrusts. It wasn’t long before she was coming around him again, his name falling from her lips in between ragged breaths and creatively-combined expletives, and he spilled inside her soon after, rolling off of her to pull her close, burying his nose in her hair.

They laid there in silence for awhile, their breathing calming. She had forgotten how safe she felt in his arms, and she’d almost drifted off when he spoke, the words so quiet she barely heard them.

“I love you too, Caroline.”

She smiled.


End file.
